Bill Gates said something astonishing in January. Many have commented on it and I’m not interested (right now) in giving an opinion about what he said. Just the fact that he SAID it has given me pause.
Bill Gates suggested that robots be taxed at the rate human workers are taxed, because so many of them are doing human work instead of humans.
If robots are answering phones, driving, delivering parcels, and taking orders, manufacturing items, stocking warehouses, writing contracts, managing banking … if you didn’t have to work, what would you do with your time?
We humans today have more disposable time than any time in history, and I am not encouraged by how we seem to be choosing to spend it. TV. YouTube cat videos. Pornography online has soared. So have video games. We seem to be just checking out as a society.
What if we did have all that free time and could just make stuff? Hone a craft? Learn to play an instrument? Decorate cakes? My goodness, what a gift that time could be!
What would you teach someone to do? What would you like to learn? The mind boggles. I will never have enough time to learn everything I want to learn how to do, and do well. I will never read everything I want to read. I never did learn to play a banjo (maybe that’s a good thing). I still don’t know how to crochet.
Can you even imagine what we could make if everyone had the time and access to do what moved them? People are so very clever. Let’s start planning…
In July I had a rather intimate conversation with a new acquaintance, a relative stranger, but someone whose work and work ethic I had witnessed and admired greatly from close quarters. I admitted that I had been asking the Universe for a feeling of safety, security, and that after talking with her for those two weeks I had begun to think that perhaps I should be asking for courage instead.
Well, be careful what you ask for.
Some time ago, I read somewhere about a practice Thich Nhat Hanh had when working with children. He was teaching his walking meditation but with children he encouraged them to say “Yes!” with every step. Every step. That’s a lot of “yes’s”, ya’ll. Since I’m such a baby with so many of these advanced methodologies, I thought maybe I’d start with the kids’ exercises.
What I found, to my surprise, was that after 3 or 4 minutes of a “yes” with every step, my mood would brighten, my step would lighten, and each “yes” would be more exuberant that the last, so that by the end of the exercise it was all I could do to contain myself to acceptable levels given the density of my household. I also found that “yes” came out of my mouth more readily than “no” when opportunities were made available, and as a result of that I have made some incredible new friends, been some incredible new places, and started some incredible new paths that I am so excited about that I almost leap out of bed every morning.
But perhaps the most exciting result of this change of attitude is to see it reflected in my recent work. I can see joy again. Playfulness, which I knew had to still be lurking somewhere. Humor. A little bit of rebellion, but hey, I can’t expect to change overnight. I’ve also been asked to participate in a few things that make me feel excited, and even to give a little talk about our choices in what we buy, wear, use, and gift to others, subjects very near and dear to my heart. Mindfulness in all things.
Try it for yourself. Brace yourself for the energy that comes. And then tell us about it! What puts a spring in your step these days?
Ann Loveless, of Loveless PhotoFiber from Frankfort, Michigan, won the $200,000 Public Vote Grand Prize from ArtPrize on October 9, 2015. Her work, Northwood Awakening, is a 60 by 300 inch quilt, made in several panels. This is made especially interesting since she also won in 2013, with ArtPrize 2013 Public Vote Grand Prize winner for Sleeping Bear Dune Lakeshore.
According to the ArtPrize website, “ArtPrize voters have time and again elevated work that is technically difficult and masterfully created” as the winners of the competition. In another quote from their website:
“Once again, reverence for technical skill in two-dimensional work—this time in a stunning combination of large-scale photography and intricate textile—has captured the imagination of the voting public,” said Christian Gaines, ArtPrize Executive Director. “It’s a surprising and unexpected twist to have Northwood Awakenings represent our first-ever two-time public vote winner. We’re stunned and delighted, but we’re also reflecting on how this affects ArtPrize going forward.”
Now, this doesn’t actually surprise me as much as it seems to the organizers of ArtPrize. Anyone who has ever been to a quilt show knows that feeling one gets upon entering the venue, and hearing the gasps and sighs that seem to escape unnoticed by the viewing public. Anyone with a child knows the intrinsic attraction of a quilt. And anyone with a pet, be it dog or cat or anything else 4-footed, know that a quilt will be the spot-of-choice given any number of alternatives for that pet.
I’ve not posted a photo of Ann Loveless’ quilts, as I don’t have her permission to do so, but would highly recommend a quick trip to her website to see her revolving gallery of work.
I have just returned from the AQS Chattanooga Quilt Show, only 3 hours away and an overnight stay. I went with a friend, Sylvia Schaefer, who had a quilt in competition. We spent hours (and hours!) at the show. Visited the Tennessee Aquarium. Listened to the pretty wonderful local band entertaining on the square. Ate dinner at a very cute little restaurant beside the city park. Strolled across the Tennessee River on the restored pedestrian bridge. Had some truly inventive ice cream. Watched other people with their dogs, their partners, their babies. Took the electric trolley around town. All in all, a good time.
This year has seen a bit of a turnaround in my thinking about taking these little trips. I’ve been telling myself I have too much to do, I can’t afford it … when in actuality, I can’t afford NOT to go. There is so much inspiration in seeing actual art, not flat art in photos or online. My subsequent work takes off in new and sometimes unexpected directions. My energy levels are replenished. Friendships are made, or strengthened. It’s great to see what products are available. And it never, ever fails that I meet someone who inspires me in an unexpected way.
This year it was Sandi Suggs, the featured quilt artist at the show. I was just walking through, taking a deeper, final look at her quilt chronology, literally minutes before the closing of the show. All by myself, not even really conscious of what, if anything, I was thinking. And then, there she was. She introduced herself and we had a rather deep and surprisingly intimate conversation. Perhaps it was her charming way of being so unassuming. Perhaps I was caught so offguard that my usual defences were not in place.
Quilt shows can be tricky places. It’s so easy to get caught up in criticism, what quilters call acting as the “quilt police”. So hanging all of your quilts, from the first to the most recent, probably feels a little like standing in your underwear on stage. (I’ve never been brave enough to do this.) Everyone started somewhere, and I remember reading an article in a quilt magazine where very famous quilt artists shared photos of their first quilts, with the object being to match the quilt to the artist. Some, it was easy. Most, not so much. But the other side of that is that if the only quilts hanging in a show took someone 2 years to make from start to finish, with no indication of beginnings or experiments or trials, many MANY people would be so intimidated they’d never consider trying one. And so, I find that more and more I am drawn to the experiments, the ideas, sometimes the execution of which is less than perfect or spectacular. They give me a bit of an inside view, a window into their thinking and method. They give me the itch to try some things myself! And Sandi’s journey was interesting, and winding, covering many different styles, patterns, and fabrics, and it was so nice to see the progress, both in her choice of styles that seemed to suit her better, and the progression of the skill set necessary to get to the next levels. I suspect many of us are on this path ourselves.
So thank you, Ms. Suggs, for sharing. For smilingly opening up a window into your process, your work, and your heart. I hope your courage is contagious!